A Night in the Life of Heather Sinclair
by The Headphones Kid
Summary: This Degrassi fanfic is my take on and exploration of the unseen character Heather Sinclair, Holly J's sister from the show Degrassi, as a violent individual.


-1As I exited the house, which was the site of a house party hosted by Shelia Mendez, the first thing I see up in the sky is the sky itself, buried with lit stars, some shining more visibly than others. Behind me, beyond the door, the party was still raging on. People were getting drunk one by one, condoms were breaking one by one, and now the music was blurting out a mellow tune, different from the heavy shit that was playing earlier this evening.

The street in front of me was packed with parked cars, one of them a Ferrari 612 Scaglietti, a car I've been saving my money on since last year's Prom at Degrassi High. Last year concluded my junior year. Now, it was nearing the end of my senior year (in fact, this was a weekend the party took place on) and the reason I busted out of the house was because my boyfriend since last summer, Darren Malik, stood up to me in that bedroom, fed up with the months that I had treated him like he was a slave to my breathing minute. I never loved him, he pointed out. I only put him down further each time he tried to do something good for me. He was truly in love with someone else and he chose that destiny. And I chose mine: to be a cunt, according to Darren. This evening played out like last night's episode of My Super Sweet 16, which involved one of the party girls standing up to Marissa Henderson, one of the world's most spoiled and racist valley girls in Canada. And yet my sister Holly was mimicking the same behaviors as Marissa, but without the racism and more of the arrogance.

I waved to a MINI Cooper S pulling into the street and I found myself looking at it. Whoever was in that car honked the horn, but at me. Whoever was in that car noticed that I was dressed as if I was going to a porn convention: My blue tank top, my short skirt, my visible pink thong, and my boots. I sported pony tailed blond hair, stood at five-feet-seven, and weighed at 103 pounds, an ideal weight.

I walked towards the car and without looking, I got in to see that at the driver's seat, the driver was sitting there, with rapist glasses, a Mohawk, and a bright-colored shirt. His hands were glued to the wheel and his eyes directly on me.

"You need a ride?" asked the driver.

"Just drive. I'll tell you where to go."

He put the pedal to the metal and drove away from the neighborhood. Minutes later, we were on the freeway and I was looking at the outside cars breezing by on this Saturday night, this good night turned for the unfortunate. The stars were shimmering in the sky more vividly than before.

"Are you really alone tonight?" the driver asked me.

"Yeah," I said. "I broke up with my boyfriend.

"That's too bad."

"No shit."

"How long were you with him for?"

"A few months."

"Good length. I knew some couples who were together for just one month."

"Whatever. Just drive."

"Where do you live?"

"I'm not going home yet."

"Okay…"

Later, I successfully directed the driver to a resort in the middle of nowhere. As we got out of the car, two major features were revealed about him: First, he was standing at 5'8' and second, he didn't look too old. In fact, when I asked him his age, he said that he was eighteen, the same age as me.

When we entered the hotel, I paid for a room, took the boy's hand, and dragged him to the room, which was located on the seventh floor of the hotel portion of the resort. I needed something to take my mind off Darren Malik. I needed something to make me feel like a girl again. I wanted to feel like a winner, not a loser. I wanted to triumph, not be defeated by some useless dick. I wanted to be Heather Sinclair again.

We entered the room, which was engulfed with a queen-size bed, blood-red walls, a small TV mounted on a desk, and a fancy bathroom, the design of the showers straight out of a dream.

"It's a nice room," the boy said.

"Get on the bed," I commanded.

"But.."

"Do it." I said, with a harsh tone of voice.

Without arguing, the boy lay on the bed and I immediately got on top of him and dry-humped him for a couple of minutes before I whispered in his ear that I wanted him and I stripped each article of clothing from my body, revealing to him my round breasts and I asked if he wanted to suck on them before I thrust one of my nipples into his mouth for him to suck on, but I changed my mind, said no, and took a nearby pocket knife and stabbed him in one of his eyes and a strange red liquid began to ooze from the eye and he was screaming but I held his arms down so he wouldn't touch his eye and I licked his eye and tasted the blood oozing and the boy was screaming, "Oh my Lord God stop it Lord Jesus help me" and I screamed in his ear to shut up but he wouldn't so I drove my tongue into his other eye and plucked it out and chewed on the eye and while I was chewing on the eye, I repeatedly stabbed him in the throat and tasted every inch of blood seeping from it and to finally kill the boy, I stabbed him in the jugular to deprive him of air supply and as he was dying, I got off of him to watch in pleasure as he shook, trying to grab his throat. Moments later, he goes still. It disappointed me to see that his death had to be that quick. My cell phone, which was located in the pocket of my short skirt, ringed. I picked it up.

"Yes, Holly?"

"Heather, where the fuck have you been?"

"Where are you?"

"Still at home? I thought you were coming back earlier."

"Well, you're going to have to wait."

"For fuck's sake, Mom's gonna be home in a few…"

"Holly, if you ever raise your tone with me, I'm going to slice you in half with a samurai sword. Understand?"

"Whatever."

I hung up and spent the rest of my time looking at the corpse of the body. The time on the clock on the wall read 12:01.


End file.
